


And All Things Will End (working title)

by WinterOcelot



Series: The Hunter and the Demon [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Demon Hanzo Shimada, Hunter Jesse McCree, M/M, Magic, Monster Hunter AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2020-03-06 06:50:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18845848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterOcelot/pseuds/WinterOcelot
Summary: I'm bACK, BABY! >:DDDCouldn't think of a title with alliterations so pls accept a temporary title for now ^^;





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> # I'm bACK, BABY! >:DDD 
> 
> Couldn't think of a title with alliterations so pls accept a temporary title for now ^^;

It’s been a year – one whole year since a hunt in Japan lead him to a disgruntled demon who would turn out to be the love of his life.

He remembers their first month together; awkward and hesitant, with neither one of them sure that the affection they were seeking would be reciprocated. McCree hates to admit it, but he was convinced that Hanzo was more lusty than affectionate, despite the fact that the demon spent a lot more time initiating cuddles than sex. 

Poor judgement on his part.

Jesse steals a glance at Hanzo in the passenger seat while he drives them home. While Jesse had let his hair get long, Hanzo had shaved most of his off. Gone was his spiky pony tail, and the greyed fans of hair that hid his ears; all but the hairs on the very top of his head had been replaced with dark stubble. 

He reaches out, placing his hand on the back of Hanzo’s shaved head. It usually turns Hanzo into a pile of mush, but he’s too vigilant to be calm.

“She knows too much,” he finally ekes out.

Jesse can’t help but chuckle; this was definitely not the reaction he was expecting when he finally introduced Hanzo to his mother. “Like she said; we met while I was investigatin’ – what were the chances that you’d be human?”

“Clara must have told her something.”

Jesse chuckles harder. “Naw. She just has a good eye fer these things.”

“As do all the McCrees, it seems,” Hanzo grumbles. Despite his tone, Jesse sees his posture relax slightly. He then side-eyes Jesse with a mischievous smile. “At least your teenage photos were amusing.”

The hunter groans – they might have been amusing to Hanzo, but to Jesse, they were a reminder of poor fashion choices and even poorer taste in hairstyle. But, like his mother had said; it was a fair punishment for not introducing her to Hanzo sooner. 

“We were all young once,” Hanzo muses, still smiling. “It seems you were very enthusiastic about your youth.”

He groans again. “Yeah, when I started livin’ out of home and with Gabriel, I went overboard. Got my septum pierced, got a tattoo, cut most of my hair off, got a tongue piercing-”

“What?” Hanzo sits up and his eyes drop to Jesse’s mouth. “Why did you take it out?”

“Got in the way of my food.”

The demon drops back into his seat. “Why am I not surprised?” He shoots a playful sideways glance at the hunter. “What else did you have pierced?”

“Got my lower lip done, but y’can’t see the big dent it left ’cause of the soul patch.”

“The what?”

Jesse idly rubs the little bunch of hair he sports under his lower lip. 

“Hn. I would like to search for other old piercing sites.”

“Search away,” Jesse chuckles. “I’m surprised y’haven’t noticed the sheriff’s star yet.”

Hanzo sits upright and turns his body to face Jesse. “What?”

“…Honey, I have a big ol’ tattoo on my ankle.”

Hanzo narrows his eyes. “I have seen every inch of your naked body. I think I would recall seeing a tattoo.”

Jesse shrugs dismissively with his eyes still on the road, knowing that it’ll annoy Hanzo. And annoy him it does; he can feel the other man’s stare on his face. 

“Jesse.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you fucking with me?”

McCree can’t stop the wide smile that spreads across his face. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.” 

They arrive home just as the sun disappears over the horizon. They have a relaxed mug of tea before heading to the bedroom. When Jesse kicks off his boots then his jeans, Hanzo rushes him, tackling him onto the bed.

“Oof! Sweetheart, what-?”

But Hanzo has retreated, and he grabs hold of Jesse’s left ankle, searching it fiercely. The hunter watches, amused, before he says smugly, “other ankle.”

Instantly, his right leg is in Hanzo’s grasp, and it’s then that he finally sees the tattoo. 

“How have I not seen this in the entire year we have been together?” he cries, parting leg hairs to get a better look.

“You tell me, honey,” Jesse snickers, watching Hanzo’s face closely. 

The demon lowers Jesse’s leg carefully with his eyes still fixed on the sheriff’s star. “Do you have other tattoos?”

“I used to.”

“‘Used to’?” Hanzo meets his eyes now. “Did you have them removed?”

Jesse glances at his metal arm. “Kinda had the whole limb removed,” he chuckles.

“Do not be morbid,” Hanzo grouses. He throws the sheriff’s star a last glance, then looks back to Jesse. “That was all? Just one on the arm and one on the ankle?”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t really have anythin’ else I wanted done.” He eyes Hanzo’s left arm. “And what about you?”

Hanzo looks at his arm as well. “I think once you get a full and detailed sleeve, you lose interest in getting anything else. _Especially_ when you get it done by traditional means.”

“You got all that done with the li’l scrape-y tool?”

Hanzo chuckles. “Yes. The _tebori_ method is neither quick nor kind.”

Jesse’s eyes roam over the demon’s left arm. His tattoo is completely covered by his long-sleeved shirt, but Jesse can still see it in his mind’s eye; he’d spent a lot of time admiring it with touch and sight, he feels he could probably draw it from memory at this point.

“This is a good look for you,” says Hanzo haughtily, and it’s then that Jesse remembers he is on his bed, fully clothed, minus his jeans. He looks down with a groan and remembers that he’s wearing his briefs tonight, given that they’d just returned from an assignment and neither of them had had the chance to wash their clothes. 

“I’m in my tighty whities,” the hunter cries, dropping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically.

“And you are still ridiculously attractive,” Hanzo replies, crawling onto the bed beside him. 

Jesse chuckles lightly in response. He buries his face in Hanzo’s chest and wraps strong arms around him. Hanzo grabs back with a contented hum.

With all the excitement of Hanzo finally meeting his mother, Jesse decides that they can both gladly enjoy an early night.


	2. A Spanner in the Works

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ## w00t chapter 2 is here!
> 
> Although it's technically the first chapter, because chapter one was an epilogue :B

_One year down the track; Gabriel was due to make contact 4 months ago._

Jesse sets the table and places the breakfast he cooked in his and Hanzo’s respective places. He sips his coffee as he waits for the demon to get out of bed. So he gets quite the surprise when Hanzo comes in from the backyard.

“When…?” 

“I have been practicing my sneaking,” he says slyly with an entirely too smug expression. He sits down and starts eating without another word. 

All Jesse can do is shake his head good-naturedly and finish off his coffee. 

Hanzo chats about the garden and how well the native plants are growing, and Jesse listens avidly. He loves that even though the garden is officially Hanzo’s domain now, Hanzo feels the need to keep Jesse feeling involved. 

“Honestly, honey,” Jesse had said to Hanzo, “when you put in the sagebrush, you won all rights to the garden.”

“It is unruly and wild, but resilient,” Hanzo had said in response. Jesse got the distinct impression that Hanzo wasn’t referring only to the sagebrush. 

“…Smells amazin’, too,” Jesse had offered haughtily. That comment earned him a gentle bump from Hanzo’s hip.

When breakfast is finished, their talk turns to business. Specifically about a case they’ve just been hired for.

“I have a weird feelin’ about this client.”

“Hn,” Hanzo hums in agreement. “She is rather strange. But I am curious.”

McCree rubs his beard. “Just hope we can help her out, given she’s payin’ fer a month at a swish hotel.”

Hanzo sighs contentedly, most likely thinking of the large spa bath included in their room. “Much better than the motel we had to sleep in for our last mission.” 

“Speakin’ of,” Jesse says, grabbing their empty plates and mugs for the sink, “how’s yer report for that mission comin’ along?”

“It is going well. I have asked Satya to proof read it for me.”

Jesse can’t stop the snort of laughter before it escapes him. Hanzo sits back in his chair with his eyebrows raised, looking faux-affronted. He does his best to ignore the demon and place the dishes down without dropping anything. When he turns to face Hanzo again, he’s crossed his arms and is looking at Jesse expectantly.

“It’s just… y’all’re dorks.”

The demon doesn’t even blink. “Says the man with a shelf full of cowboy books.”

Jesse sputters, and before he can think of a cutting retort, he is interrupted by the sound of tyres screeching in his front yard, followed by loud and continuous car honking.

“Sounds like Fareeha an’ Satya are here.”

“I never would have guessed,” Hanzo says with a smile. He rises from his seat, rubbing absently at the stubble on the back of his head. “Shall I invite them in for tea?”

“Naw, sounds like Pharah’s keen to get a move on.”

“Hn.” Hanzo looks up at Jesse now. “What happens if Fareeha gets a contract while she’s with us?”

“Hunters are allowed to turn down contracts, ya know?” Jesse says with a wink.

The hunter and demon grab their suitcases, then lock up and head outside, where they spot Satya in Fareeha’s passenger seat with an embarrassed hand over her eyes, and a radiant Fareeha hanging out of the driver side window. When she spots them leaving the house, she raises an excited fist and whoops. 

“Road trip!” she yells excitedly.

“At least long drives are more tolerable than long flights,” Hanzo mutters to Jesse.

McCree looks at him thoughtfully. They decided on driving to their location when they found out that it took the same amount of time to drive to the airport, fly over, and catch the bus to their hotel. Longer if they included the 2 hour wait time for their bus to arrive at the airport.

“It’ll fly passed,” Jesse says in an encouraging manner. “We’re stickin’ to the same highway the whole way.”

Hanzo looks at him questioningly as they climb into the car.

“Well, it changes names a couple o’ times, but trust me; it’s the same damn road the whole way.”

 

~~~~~~

 

Hanzo sits back with an ankle resting on his knee while he gulps down his tea. The hotel the client is paying for is not only spacious and sophisticated, it also has an excellent selection of loose-leaf green teas, and he’s been indulging heavily. Satya, not so much; she sticks with the citrus Ceylon blend while she proof reads Hanzo’s report from his and Jesse’s last mission.

“You have quite a way with words,” she says brightly. “The extensive nature of your report makes me feel as though I myself had accompanied you on this mission.”

Hanzo smiles into his tea. “Thank you.” 

“The only way I could think to improve it is to colour code the various sections.”

The demon can’t help his snort. “Jesse would never let me live that down.”

Satya raises an eyebrow at that, and Hanzo explains Jesse’s comment about their dorkiness.

“Hmph,” the witch laughs, “says the man who owns five pairs of cowboy boots.”

The both of them laugh and share an easy silence. Hanzo checks the elegant clock mounted in the kitchen. “I estimate another minute of peace and quiet.

Satya lets out a light chuckle. “Yes, our hunters should return soon,” she says warmly.

He likes the way that sounds – ‘our hunters.’ He had been privately referring to Jesse as ‘his hunter’ for a while now, but hearing it aloud from someone else brings new warmth to that term. 

He’s pulled from his musings by the sound of Jesse’s deep voice rumbling through the hotel hallway. It’s a sound his ears have become quite accustomed to. “I can hear them now,” Hanzo says.

Satya’s yellow eyes bore into his, like highly polished citrine. “Let us make mischief.”

Hanzo is in. “What do you suggest?” he asks, already feeling a laugh forming. 

Satya explains what she has in mind, and they’re both desperately holding back giggles as they hear their hunters entering. 

When Jesse and Fareeha enter, they find Hanzo and Satya sitting primly holding their tea, completely silent, and looking at them like they’ve just been gossiping for the past hour.

“Greetings,” Hanzo purrs in as nonchalant a manner as he can manage.

“We were just talking about the two of you,” Satya supplies, and it’s technically not a lie.

“Oh really, now?” Jesse teases. He’s much smoother than Fareeha, who looks flustered and mutters a quick “never should have introduced you two.”

Satya finishes the remainder of her tea with a cheeky smile. “Dinner time?” she asks Fareeha.

“Ok.” She looks at Jesse and Hanzo quickly. “We were just gonna get some greasy junk.”

Jesse waves her off. “Go on an’ enjoy yer dinner date. Hanzo an’ I will sort ourselves out.”

Satya quickly ushers Fareeha out while she turns bright red and mutters the words ‘dinner date’ repeatedly. 

When the door closes behind the witch and her hunter, Jesse looks at Hanzo properly. 

“You feelin’ up to greasy junk?”

“Absolutely not.”

His hunter laughs. “Let’s see if they got a diner around that does good coffee.”

They drive around for a solid 10 minutes, finding nothing but pubs and Mexican restaurants, which Jesse refuses to dine at.

“But I like Mexican food,” Hanzo protests, remembering the wonderful tastes and smells of Dorado.

“Trust me, honey; that ain’t Mexican food.”

With no diners around, they settle for a café where they order breakfast for dinner – waffles and strong coffee. Hanzo feels adventurous and orders a Mexican style spiced coffee; black coffee brewed with cinnamon and sugar cane.

They choose a four-person booth in the corner, tucked away from the loud chatter of other patrons. It’s a comfortable spot, away from the hot windows and the café doors that throw in a hot breeze every time they’re opened. 

While they work through their coffees and waffles, Jesse talks about his meeting with the client, and how he’s even more sure that there’s something off about her and their case. 

Hanzo lets out a resigned sigh and decides that they can deal with it all tomorrow. 

“Let us just enjoy our meal.” And with a sly smile, “and the company.”

Jesse shoots him one of his signature wide smiles, and he nudges the demon’s foot gently under the table. 

“More coffee?” a familiar voice asks them. Both Jesse and Hanzo look up.

 _“Hola,”_ Sombra says smugly, waving her obnoxiously long nails at them. She's in clothes that Hanzo assumes are her 'civilian' clothes -- not as loud and pointy as the hideous purple outfit she wore the last time he saw her, but still brightly coloured and clashing horribly with the purple of her hair.

Jesse moves to stand, but Hanzo places a gentle hand on his arm. 

“You two are getting predictable,” she says, sing-song. “I knew that if you came all the way out here, you’d look for a place with coffee and waffles.”

Jesse’s arm tenses up under Hanzo’s hand.

“…so our client?” he asks.

“Not a real case. Just an old woman I talked into doing me a favour.”

“What do you want from us?” Hanzo asks dangerously, hoping that Sombra will stop with her games and get straight to the point.

She puts a hand on her cocked hip and lets out a frustrated sigh. Her playful expression is replaced with cold determination. “There’s been a setback with Gabe’s plan. And though it pains me greatly to admit this… I might need your help.”

Hanzo is shocked into silence. He chances a look at Jesse, who looks just as speechless as he feels. 

“Look,” Sombra snaps, “asking for help is a really big thing for me, so if you’re going to be _cabrones_ about it-”

Jesse holds up a hand, and she stops. Hanzo watches his hunter’s face closely; he’s staring intensely at the remainder of his waffles, but he can see the gears moving in Jesse’s head. 

He lowers his hand and scoots over to the corner of the booth, dragging his waffles with him. “Sit.”

“On the same spot your ass has been on-?”

“Sit.”

Sombra rolls her eyes, then gives Jesse a look that says ‘I’m doing this because _I_ want to, not because you told me to.’ She eases her way into the booth, careful not to touch the table at all. 

Jesse meets her eyes now. “Are you alone?”

“Yup.”

“Wires?”

“None.”

“Ok. Start at the beginning.”

Sombra’s eyes double in size. “In _here?_ Wh-what about the hotel?”

Jesse’s eyes just about bore into hers. “Y’ever heard the phrase ‘don’t shit where you eat’?”

Hanzo bites back a laugh at Sombra’s horrified expression. It’s the first time he’s seen her face without its cocky arrogance. 

She gives the diner a cursory sweep, then folds her arms in resigned defeat. “If I’m starting from the beginning, I want waffles. And a Mexican coffee! Not that American filtered crap.”

Jesse pushes his unfinished plate towards her, and Hanzo slides his mug of Mexican spiced coffee next to Jesse’s plate. He figures they shouldn’t antagonise her when she’s laid herself bare like this, but their revenge is well-worth the look of abject terror on Sombra’s usually smug face. 

“Here,” Jesse says with that mischievous smile of his, “I’ll clean my fork for ya.” And he pops it in his mouth, making sure to clear off all the residual syrup. 

Sombra’s face drops into a more relaxed expression of disgust. _“Cabrón,”_ she hisses. 

Jesse waves down a waiter and orders another serving of waffles and a Mexican spiced coffee. Sombra informs the waiter that she wants a shot of tequila in that coffee. 

When the waiter leaves, Jesse opens his mouth, but Sombra cuts him off quickly.

“I’m not saying _anything_ until my food arrives.”

Jesse looks at Hanzo and shrugs. Hanzo throws him an easy smile and takes a small sip of his coffee. They wait in comfortable silence while Sombra scowls like a petulant child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh heh heh. That's what you get, Sombra >:)


	3. Change of Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Mostly) on schedule for teh monthly update :D

“So Gabe had this plan, and he split it up into like, five phases, but he wouldn’t tell me what phase five involved because all of his plans were on a need-to-know basis, and he claims to have only needed my help for phases three and four.”

“An’ he trusted you with all that?” Jesse asks sceptically.

“Gabe adopted me, too!” she laughs, throwing a lazy wink. _“Somos hermanos.”_

“I mean, Gabe’s more like my young uncle.”

“Pfft. ‘Young’.” Sombra sips her drink. “We’re cousins then.”

“Great,” Jesse drawls. “Another relative to add to the list.”

“Is _el brasileño_ on that list?” 

“Lúcio? Yeah, he’s my nephew.”

 _“¿Y tú?”_ she asks, eyes locking onto Hanzo.

“I am the husband,” he says flatly. 

Sombra snorts, disbelieving, until she catches Jesse’s face. And, as per usual, despite being in a committed relationship with Hanzo for over a year, Jesse still gets awkward and tongue-tied whenever this comes up while Hanzo is in the same room. He should stop taking it for granted that everyone just knows that they’re together without having to ask.

“No…” Sombra whispers. She looks back to Hanzo, who has an incredibly smug smile on his face.

She looks back at Jesse, and it’s all he can do to offer her a weak shrug in response.

“McCree… _qué_ the fuck?” She shoots another glance at Hanzo before addressing McCree in Spanish.

_“Are you serious?! Don’t you know how fucking dangerous demons are?”_

Jesse looks over to Hanzo; his expression has grown even more smug, which is something Jesse didn’t think was possible.

Hanzo clears his throat. _“Puedo entender tus palabras.”_

‘I can understand your words.’

Not the way Jesse would’ve said it, but Hanzo gets his point across just fine, judging by Sombra’s stricken expression. 

Hanzo clears his throat again. “Shall we return to our earlier discussion?”

Sombra, in response, slams down her tequila coffee, then waves down their waiter and orders another.

Jesse almost feels sorry for her. When her drink arrives, he decides to lead their conversation. “The final phase for most of Gabriel’s undercover stuff was to cut all ties.”

Sombra nods. “That sounds right. Phase three was covering his ass and making sure Talon didn’t suspect him of sabotaging. Phase four was helping him disappear. I have no idea what phase five involves, but we set a date and time for contact.”

She pauses, tapping a long nail against her glass. “He missed our agreed time, so I tried again the next day. And the day after.” She leans forward with a tired sigh, staring into her drink. “Anyway, it’s been a month, and I think something happened.”

Hanzo leans forward as well. “You do not think he is just refusing to reach out to you?”

Sombra answers with a swift “no” at the same time Jesse says “he wouldn’t do that.”

Hanzo’s eyes pin them both, hawk-like and clever. They finally land on Sombra. “Why bring us here?”

“I got a signal from this area three different times. So either he ‘s trying to get me over here to help… or he just really likes hanging out in this ass town.”

Jesse eyes her curiously. “Ass town?”

Sombra takes that as an invitation to start ranting about the town and its shoddy internet speeds and bastardised Mexican food and how all of its major attractions are farmhouse museums or nature trails.

Jesse catches Hanzo’s eye, and the demon offers him an amused smirk. They let her carry on, and when she’s done, she slams down her second drink and then orders tequila on its own. 

“There’s nothing challenging to hack into, and no juicy information to use as blackmail. This town _sucks.”_

Jesse nudges her with his shoulder. “Well, you _did_ set us up in a nice hotel. Least we can do is poke around for you.”

“Good,” Sombra says quickly. “You two _cabrones_ can start with the Historical Tractor Museum.” Her face sours. “Ugh. I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth.”

“This town has a _Historical Tractor Museum?”_ Hanzo asks with a snort. “Really?”

“What’s the deal with that place?” Jesse questions hurriedly, before anyone gets distracted. 

“It’s mentioned in a poem Gabe left. ‘Tractors’ and ‘an old country road,’ and the museum is _literally_ on a road called Old Country Road. God I hate this town.”

“You should let Jesse see that poem,” Hanzo says simply over his mug of spiced coffee.

Jesse knows this is the wrong thing to say to Sombra before her demeanour even starts to shift. Her face drops into an angry scowl. “I don’t have to do _anything.”_

Hanzo doesn’t even blink. “My apologies. What I meant to say was, Jesse has proven himself proficient in deciphering coded messages from Gabriel, and in order to speed up the process of finding Gabriel, I would highly recommend showing Jesse that poem.”

Sombra’s jaw clenches and she gives him a fierce look. Hanzo matches her, neutral and unblinking.

“It’s fine,” Jesse says quickly, trying to ease the tension. “Sombra’s got it under control.” He turns to face her. “We’ll head to that museum first thing tomorrow morning. Now scooch. I need to pay.”

“No need. I settled your tab with non-traceable funds stolen from Talon.” Gulping her drink down, she rises, exiting the booth with her usual haughty disposition. “Hope you enjoyed your blood waffles.” As she leaves, she throws Hanzo a devil horns salute that he automatically returns. McCree decides that the demon has spent far too much time alone with Fareeha for his own good.

“Jesse?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Did Sombra just assume I listen to metal because I am a demon?”

“…I have no idea.”

Hanzo rubs the back of his head absently. “Is it the haircut? Or the bridge piercing?”

“You _do_ own a lot of black,” Jesse teases. 

“Hn. Now I will need some band t shirts.”

Jesse chuckles. “And a studded belt.”

They finish up at the diner and head back to the hotel room, deciding that they should keep Pharah and Satya in the loop. Hanzo is very firm on insisting on keeping the two of them out of the investigation because ‘they are here for fun, not work,’ et cetera. Jesse agrees wholeheartedly.

When they return to their hotel room, it’s as empty as when they left it. 

“They must be havin’ a grand night on the town,” Jesse chuckles.

Hanzo’s eyes dart to their bedroom door, then back to the door they just walked through. 

“Do we have enough time to have a grand night as well?”

Jesse catches his drift but decides to play coy. “Depends on your definition of a grand night,” he drawls.

“It involves getting naked and messing up the bed.”

“…that’s what I was hopin’ to hear.”

Hanzo removes his lace-up boots with as much speed and grace as he can manage, while Jesse inelegantly yanks off his boots and throws them aside. 

Jesse wraps Hanzo up in his arms and kisses him heatedly, The demon lets out a happy growl, and allows Jesse to lead him backwards towards the bed. When his knees collide with it, Hanzo drops backwards onto the bed with an airy grunt, Jesse still in his arms.

McCree pulls Hanzo’s t-shirt up slowly, and when he gets high enough, Hanzo raises his arms so that Jesse can remove it completely.

But he doesn’t; instead, he leaves it inside-out and over Hanzo’s face so that his arms are stuck above his head.

“Jesse!” he laughs. 

McCree then takes the opportunity to blow a big, wet raspberry on Hanzo’s midriff. The demon lets out a long-suffering sigh, but Jesse can definitely hear his amusement.

He’s had his fun, so he removes Hanzo’s shirt properly. Hanzo grabs it off him and throws it aside roughly. The demon grabs McCree’s face with both hands and pulls him in for a kiss. 

They stay attached at the lips while Hanzo unbuttons Jesse’s shirt. He peels that off and throws it just like Hanzo has with his shirt. 

Hanzo laughs lightly against his lips, and his hands move down to deal with Jesse’s belt and jeans. 

It doesn’t take long for them to shed all their clothes, and with a few more heated kisses, Jesse manoeuvres himself onto his knees between Hanzo’s legs, holding a small bottle of lube in one hand.

“You ready?” he asks. 

Hanzo pushes himself up onto his elbows and nods, his eyes fixed intently on Jesse’s face.

With that confirmation, Jesse places a generous blob of lube onto one of his flesh fingers. He starts with a gentle press, making sure the lube gets everywhere it needs to be. Hanzo hums contentedly, closing his eyes. Jesse presses again, trying to push passed the tight ring of muscle. When he pushes an inch in, Hanzo’s tail curls sharply, bringing the sheets with it and bunching them up.

“Good?” Jesse asks.

“Very good,” Hanzo purrs.

He works slowly, enjoying himself entirely too much; Jesse adores Hanzo’s sharp inhales, and his tail curling, and the way that his legs spread just a tiny bit further apart when Jesse hits a sensitive spot. 

When he can slide that single finger all the way in, he makes eye contact with the demon. “You ready for a second?”

Despite his blissed-out expression, Hanzo nods energetically, and Jesse applies more lube and gently coaxes a second finger in. 

The demon drops his head, moaning quietly. His tail swishes underneath him and curls tightly in the opposite direction. 

He continues pushing and pulling gently, until Hanzo decides that he’s ready for the next step. McCree removes himself and quickly digs out a butt plug from his bag. When he’s back between Hanzo’s legs, Jesse drops a thick globule of lube onto the toy, and Hanzo scoffs.

“Surely I don’t need that much,” he huffs.

“Trust me, honey – it makes everythin’ _much_ smoother.”

Once coated to Jesse’s satisfaction, he pushes the plug in slowly and gently. Hanzo’s muscles clench involuntarily, and the toy gets pushed out. 

“Oops.”

“All good, sweetheart,” Jesse whispers. He tries again, still slow, but a little firmer this time. The plug gradually makes it way all the way in to the stopper at the end, and Hanzo lets out a raspy moan. 

“How does that feel?” Jesse asks.

“Amazing,” Hanzo growls, voice thick and gravelly. 

Jesse presses a quick kiss to Hanzo’s leg. “Anythin’ in particular you wanted to do?”

“You,” he replies with a quick dart of his tongue. 

Jesse stands with a smile, and soon he and Hanzo have swapped positions; it’s Jesse’s turn to lie on his back while Hanzo opens him up. He uses the lube instead of his warmed saliva -- most likely to get back at Jesse for using so much of the stuff. 

Hanzo works him with practised fingers, and it doesn’t take long until he’s prepared enough. 

They both roll condoms on; makes clean up much easier, especially in such a fancy hotel. Hanzo isn’t fond of condoms either, which Jesse can understand; they are definitely not made for demon penises. 

Despite the awkward fitting, Hanzo isn’t deterred; he pushes in, and Jesse can’t help the heavy sigh that leaves his lips. 

He moves slowly, pushing in, pulling back, then pushing back in, adding a bit more each time.

When he’s all the way in, he moves his body forward, hovering over Jesse with a sly smile.

Hanzo pushes and pulls with slow, shallow thrusts. Despite it being a lot gentler than what he’s used to, Jesse still feels amazing. He loves the feel of Hanzo’s chest pressed against his own, loves it when the demon’s face is on his neck, his hot breaths and slow bites making him shiver. 

He loves this, loves this gentle love-making that gets him as excited and hot as when they’re rough and wild. 

Hanzo reaches around clumsily with his tattooed arm and grabs Jesse’s leg. He pulls it upwards and that change in angle does him in; he can’t stop the ecstatic cry that leaves his lips. Hanzo takes notice, and he thrusts more eagerly, gripping the hunter’s leg tightly with clawed fingers. 

Jesse’s hand drops from Hanzo’s neck to the untattooed shoulder, then further down to his sensitive nipple. A quick flick with his metal finger earns him a pleased groan right in his ear. 

Never one to be outplayed, Hanzo retaliates by biting the sensitive spot above Jesse’s collar bone. Jesse gets him back with another flick, and Hanzo bites down harder. 

McCree decides to go all out, and he gives Hanzo’s nipple a hard pinch. The demon cries out a short, sharp moan, right in Jesse’s ear, and it’s that sound that does him in. 

They finish together as quietly as they can manage, Jesse cursing the fact that they have neighbours. 

When they catch their breath, Jesse gives Hanzo a tight squeeze, and Hanzo hums contentedly, enjoying the embrace for what feels like all of three seconds before he’s wiggling out of Jesse’s grasp.

“I must kiss your face,” he pants, pushing himself up onto his elbow.

Jesse revels in the attention, in the swift gentle kisses peppered all over his face. Hanzo then drops a big sloppy kiss on his mouth.

“Hanzo!” Jesse sputters, more surprised than offended.

“I love you.”

He smiles at that. “Love you, too, baby.” He pushes his arms above his head, stretching. “We should probably make ourselves decent before our guests get back.”

“…we probably should,” Hanzo replies, though he makes no move to get up.

“C’mon, honey,” he prods, poking Hanzo’s shoulder. “Clean-up time.”

With a reluctant groan, Hanzo pushes himself up and off Jesse, and they tidy themselves up. Out of respect for their guests, they picked up pyjamas; Hanzo chose an elegant silk set, and Jesse (sadly) had to settle for a plain pastel t shirt and flannel pants set because they didn’t sell the cactus print set in his size. 

They settle back into bed, chatting idly. Jesse keeps an ear out for Fareeha and Satya, but as it gets later and later, he forgets to listen out. He stifles a yawn, covering his mouth half-heartedly with the back of his hand. 

“Go to sleep, my pet,” Hanzo coos, rubbing the hunter’s scalp with his claws. “Our meeting can wait until morning.”

 

~~~~~~

 

The demon lies awake, on his side with a protective hand over his hunter’s chest. 

While Hanzo does need sleep, it isn’t as much or as often as Jesse seems to need it. So on nights where he finds himself in for an all-nighter, he likes to either go for a wander, or read a good book.

Since he’s in the mood for a laugh, he picks one of Gabriel’s old books that he had left to Jesse – The Demons of Ours and Other Realms. He grabs it from his luggage and as quietly as he can manage, and moves to the desk in the corner of their master bedroom. 

He decides he could use a glass of whiskey with his late night read. He leaves the bedroom silently, and enters the kitchen where he pours himself a drink. On his way back to the bedroom, he steals a glance at the clock; it’s 1:27 in the morning. _A grand night on the town, indeed,_ he thinks to himself, hoping that Fareeha and Satya are enjoying themselves. 

He decides to fold out the sofa bed for them in case they get back very late. 

He passes the night reading about all the different ways humans have classified demons. And he finds it particularly funny that demons without obvious and overt magical powers are classified as “False Demons.” _Hilarity._

Hanzo keeps reading; he skims through the semantics of “minor demons vs lesser demons,” confused that they’re listed as separate types of demon when they’re essentially the same thing. He flicks to the next page and lets out a surprised grunt. 

He freezes, then checks to make sure he didn’t wake up his hunter; Jesse is still sound asleep.

Satisfied, he turns back to the book, specifically to the pages that have pen scribbles and handwritten notes all over them.

Where the book states that minor and lesser demons can’t consume life energy (a fallacy), a red pen had been used to underline the offending sentence, with a clumsy arrow pointing to the margin of the page, where an oddly familiar hand had written notes:

_‘False. All corporeal demons are able to consume life energy.’_

His eyes move further down the text, where he spots another correction:

 _Lesser demons_ can _alter appearance – just not for long._

He keeps reading, finding more false information corrected with Gabriel’s sharp handwriting. What bothers him the most is that all of the corrections are accurate. And it brings back all of the uneasy questions that have been plaguing him for the past year. Specifically: how much does Gabriel actually know about demons? Because this book makes it abundantly clear that he knows a lot more than what was available to him in his books. And if he knows more than what’s available, could he possibly know that not all of the Shimada demons had died?

And if he did indeed have that knowledge, is Genji really safe?

He’s stirred out of his thoughts when he hears quiet voices and soft giggles. He listens closer and hears the key card beep, followed by the door opening. 

He peeks quickly at the bedside clock: 3:42am. Perhaps their morning meeting would need to become an afternoon meeting. Although, Fareeha is a military woman; she would be used to late nights and early starts. 

Regardless, he doesn’t feel up to reading more. He leaves the book on the corner desk and climbs back under the sheets. Jesse doesn’t even stir. It’s only when Hanzo places a careful hand on his hunter’s chest where it was before, Jesse rolls and faces him, muttering “no, I don’t like those chestnuts.” 

He knows he won’t get any sleep, but he might as well enjoy listening to Jesse for the next couple of hours.


	4. The Upward Spiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this out in less than a month :DDD Hope everyone enjoys this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :D

**_Gabriel “Reaper” Reyes_ **

He watches the sun touch the horizon, throwing brilliant pinks and oranges into the sky. The heavy clouds that loiter do little to block out the light and colours, only managing to add small streaks of grey throughout the sky.

Watching the sky is oddly calming, given that he’d been panicked and on high alert for the past two months. It makes him feel a bit better about how Phase Five had gone to shit.

 _Gone to shit,_ he thinks derisively, _that’s putting it lightly._ ‘Gone to shit’ would have entailed an unavoidable failure on his part. Not Moira kicking down his safehouse door with what remained of Talon’s forces right behind her. 

He looks around him, trying to find some clue as to which country he’s ended up in. No plans, no supplies, no nothing. He had been so shaken up by the fact that she’d found him, he had fled in a panic. 

He is angry both at the situation and his reaction to it; back in the HEP days, he could have watched the whole world explode, and he’d have been able to stay calm and organise (plus execute) a back-up plan. There would have been no freak outs, and certainly no running to whatever fucking country he’s ended up in now.

Sombra had warned him: _“Someone has to be ready when all your careful planning doesn’t pan out.”_ Shame he can’t seek her out; he had missed their agreed contact time, and she might have assumed she was included in the “cut all ties” part of the plan. He can only hope that she’ll find his stash of valuables that he hid in Buttfuck, Mew Mexico. 

He had formed a vague plan of meeting up with Jesse and dropping off the more priceless of his possessions before heading home to LA and figuring out how to live out a peaceful existence there. 

A large pothole on the road jostles him out of his thoughts. Or rather, the combination of that large pothole, and the rickety old bus he was riding on had jostled him out of his thoughts.

Part of him wishes that he had stuck with Talon long enough for Moira to keep treating him; that way he could shift into smoke and move about freely. As it is, his voluntary control over his physical form is pretty shit, and he has to rely on conventional methods of transportation. 

_Death magic… don’t I know someone who specialises in that?_

He remembers that he had a contact in Japan. A False Demon with a strange name and a lair filled with bottled Spirit Demons. He hadn’t spoken to them for… well, at least two years _before_ the explosion that changed everything.

He decides to make Japan his next destination.

 

~~~~~~

 

**_Fareeha “Pharah” Amari_ **

Fareeha Amari has been around hunters and non-humans her entire life. She has had expert training in neutralising hostiles, she has lead countless hunts, and she has even stared demons in the eye before ending them.

And yet, when she’s around Satya, all of that brazen fearlessness just disappears. She becomes scatter-brained and tongue-tied and she becomes nervous in the most exhilarating way. Like the way your heart enters your throat when dropping out of a plane. Or going down a steep hill in a rollercoaster. Nerve-wracking, but exhilarating in the most wonderful way.

Which is the main reason Fareeha had gotten very little sleep last night. She had been yawning and dosing off while she and Satya whispered to each other on the couch, but the excitement of having Satya so close to her all night made her giddy. It felt like her brain was ready to switch off and rest, and then it very suddenly and very excitedly remembered _Satya, that gorgeous and badass woman that you have a_ mad crush on _is lying right next to you! And she has a mad crush on you, too!_

Despite her interrupted sleep, Pharah wakes at 0900, which is a late sleep-in for her. It’s late for Satya as well, but when Fareeha checks to see if she’s awake, her eyes stay closed and her breathing remains soft and rhythmic.

She closes her eyes again, knowing full well that once she’s awake, there’s no hope of getting back to sleep. But with her eyes closed, she listens to the sounds around her, enjoying being able to laze around without actually needing to do anything. She steals occasional glances at the clock, and every time it gets later, her stomach rumbles, reminding her that she really should have had breakfast by this point.

It’s about 10am when Jesse and Hanzo exit their shared room fully dressed. 

Fareeha pushes herself up gradually, being as quiet and gentle as she can manage, but Satya wakes up anyway.

“Hmmm,” she hums loudly, looking up a Fareeha with a sleepy smile. It makes her want to squeak and give Satya a big hug. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Jesse responds shortly, grabbing a pre-packaged and ready-to-go smoothie from the fridge. Satya looks up at Fareeha, dopey and confused.

Hanzo grunts out a short huff and walks over to stand next to the couch. “Jesse is a brute if he doesn’t eat breakfast in the early hours of the morning.”

And when Hanzo looks over his shoulder to Jesse, the man had bitten off the corner of the smoothie container and is glugging it down.

Fareeha leans closer to Hanzo, and asks in a stage whisper: “Does he know those smoothies come with a straw?”

Hanzo whispers back, just as loud: “Of course. But he needs to assert his dominance.”

Jesse deliberately makes a comical growling noise.

Satya snorts into her pillow. 

“Where are you two going, anyway?” Fareeha asks.

“Historical Tractor Museum.”

Fareeha laughs. Until she notices that Hanzo isn’t laughing with her.

“…you’re serious?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Commiserations, Hanzo,” Satya mumbles. 

“Hey,” Jesse grumbles, “it was Hanzo’s idea.”

Hanzo turns so quickly to level a glare at Jesse, Fareeha’s surprised his neck doesn’t snap. And now that she’s more alert, that really doesn’t sound right. A tractor museum sounds like Jesse’s kind of joke destination. And it’s still morning; Hanzo hates doing _anything_ in the morning.

“So why are you _really_ going to that tractor museum?” Fareeha challenges.

Jesse obviously hasn’t yet had his morning coffee, so he forgets to school his expression, looking to Hanzo in a questioning and slightly panicked manner.

“What’s going on?” she asks, a little more force to her voice now. Satya is very much awake now, and she pushes herself to sit upright on the couch. 

“Nothin’,” Jesse shoots back, a little too quickly and a little too high-pitched. Hanzo sighs, long and tired. 

Jesse pushes the fridge door shut with an exaggerated shove. “Well, we _were_ meant to have a quick meetin’ before we left, but y’all came back so late, and now we’re runnin’ late, an’… y’know.”

“Speak quickly, then,” Satya instructs. 

“The client was a ploy,” Hanzo replies. “Set up by Sombra to get our attention.”

Pharah feels a pang of anxiety in her chest; Sombra always means bad news.

“She intercepted us at the diner last night.”

 _At the diner,_ she thinks. _Of course they went to a diner last night. No wonder Sombra found them so easily._ She wants to tell them off for being too predictable, but honestly, how could they have known that Sombra would be behind their dodgy client?

Instead, she asks: “What did she want?”

Jesse’s jaw clenches. “She told us she hasn’t heard from Gabe an’ she’s worried. Might be somethin’ at the tractor museum.” He grabs his keys and his hat. “We’ll give y’all the full run-down when we get back. Suffice it to say, Sombra seems genuinely scared for Gabe, an’ that’s enough for me.”

“Remember to knock before you come back,” Satya says. Fareeha’s not sure if she said that in her sleepy voice, or in her sexy voice. Regardless, she can feel her face heat right up.

Hanzo side-eyes Jesse mischievously. “Do you think someone is in need of a shovel talk?”

Pharah flings one of the couch cushions at Hanzo while Jesse laughs heartily.

“Naw, I’m a bit late fer that,” Jesse chuckles. 

“You?” Satya snickers. “Giving _me_ a shovel talk?”

“Well, yeah. If only to annoy Pharah.”

“Jesse,” Satya coos in her teasing way, “you are a fierce and reputable hunter. But you are not as scary as Ana.”

Hanzo bursts out laughing. And Fareeha wants to laugh too, but she remembers that incident all too well.

“She didn’t?” gasps Jesse, turning to face Fareeha.

“Oh, but she did.” Pharah’s mind goes back to that dinner, with Mom skilfully slicing vegetables paper thin with a far too big knife, talking to Satya in that fake-sweet voice of hers about how precious Fareeha is to her. 

Thank the powers that be that Satya took it all in her stride and didn’t cut and run. 

“Were you scared?” Hanzo asks delightedly. He earns himself another couch cushion to the face. 

“Of course not,” the witch replies with her usual bold confidence.

“Bullshit!” Jesse caws.

“Truly,” Satya counters, hand on her chest. “Her threats are only good if I had any intention of harming Fareeha. Given that I do not want to harm her in any way, those threats do not apply.”

She locks eyes with Hanzo, who watches her back with a sly smile. Fareeha has no idea what they’re playing at, but after a few seconds Satya concedes defeat. “Alright,” she says with an eyeroll and a smile. “I was _a little_ scared.”

“Ok, you butt heads have had enough fun at my expense,” Pharah sighs. “Now go to your tractor museum before I run out of things to throw at you.”

The boys head out the door, still chuckling. Before closing the door behind him, Jesse leans against the frame suggestively, adopting his thickest and sweetest drawl. 

“Don’t do anythin’ I wouldn’t do,” he says with a wink. The bastard manages to close the door before the cushion Pharah launches can hit him. And she can hear both Jesse and Hanzo cackling as they walk away.

She slumps forward onto the sofa, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face. She knows it’s all good-natured teasing, but she wishes that she could just look cool in front of Satya, instead of flustered and embarrassed. 

“What are you thinking, _pyaare?”_

Pharah gives her a nervous smile. “I’m happy you didn’t run away after Mom basically threatened to gut you,” she answers with a small chuckle.

Satya laughs in her unrestrained way, clear and musical. “Fareeha, I have been around your family for quite some time now. I know what to expect.”

She just groans in response; just because Satya is expectant of it, doesn’t make it less embarrassing for her.

The witch places a hand on her forearm. “I actually rather enjoy it.”

Fareeha narrows her eyes, watching Satya’s face dubiously.

“Truly! There is no malice when they tease us. Which is _a lot_ better than my _‘friends’_ at Vishkar.”

She doesn’t want to ask because it’s obviously a sore topic, but Satya turns to face her with that cheeky smirk of hers.

“Besides, I think you’re _adorable_ when you get all red and flustered.”

“I’m glad _you_ enjoy it,” Pharah says with a smile, nudging Satya under the blanket with her foot.

And in a perfect twist of irony, Satya’s belly rumbles loudly. Her eyes go wide and mortified, and her face darkens. 

Fareeha can’t hold in her laugh. _“Now_ who’s all red and flustered?” she teases. And because the universe obviously hates her, Fareeha’s belly growls even louder. 

Satya erupts into laughter, dropping her forehead on Pharah’s shoulder. And Pharah herself can’t help but laugh too. She rests her cheek on Satya’s head affectionately as they laugh together.

“Ok,” Fareeha says, patting Satya’s back gently, “let’s go get breakfast before we start an earthquake in here.”

Satya just nods, still laughing.

 

~~~~~~

 

**_[REDACTED] “Sombra” [REDACTED]_ **

Despite this dump of a town having nothing fun or interesting, Sombra did manage to find somewhere secluded where she could watch over McCree and his demon. It’s a big room with very little lighting, which means she can use her specialised gloves to set up as many screens as she needs, wherever she needs them.

Sombra watches the hotel hallway’s camera feed, surveying McCree and his demon as they leave hotel room together. She watches the way they interact with each other; open laughter and lively smiles and playful nudges. She can’t believe she didn’t realise that they were together. She can’t believe _Gabe_ didn’t know they were together.

Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t want to talk about it. She remembers Gabe in Dorado returning from McCree’s hotel; he was tense and emotional, and all she could get out of him was “I can’t let Jesse down,” and “that demon’s not out to hurt him.”

Sombra swaps between camera feeds on her various screens: the hotel lobby when they walk by; the hotel car park where they drive off; the main strip of shops on the main street; the gas station on Old Country Road on the way to the Tractor Museum; then finally, to the Tractor Museum’s security feeds.

They’ve queued up to buy tickets. Sombra rolls her eyes. With a few quick taps on one of her screens, she’s sent false pre-purchased tickets to McCree’s phone. She looks back at the two of them in the queue, watching as McCree pulls out his phone, gives it a funny look, shows it to his demon, then shrugs and moves to the shorter queue for those with pre-purchased tickets.

Sombra shrinks down that screen and moves it to the side. She then pulls in front of her two larger screens; one with a long, handwritten list of all of Gabe’s hideouts and safe houses (that she had discovered through illicit means), and the other has her current project – hacking into a potential bunker of Gabe’s.

He has one in his home town of LA; she knows because it was relatively easy to find and even easier to remotely access. She imagines Gabe had set this one up many years ago, given that it’s controlled and regulated digitally with very primitive tech. 

She had found another in Dorado, which had surprised her, because it wasn’t the bunker they had used when she and Gabe had gone there to try and separate McCree from his demon. 

She’s in the process of hacking into a potential bunker in Gothenburg, Sweden. Of all places. Gabe is not a cold weather person. Before she can stop herself, she’s looking up monthly weather averages for Gothenburg. 

She switches her attention between deciding if Sweden is too cold for Gabe, hacking into the Gothenburg bunker, and the hunter-demon team. They look to still be wandering around, so she puts a little more energy into hacking. 

Something clicks in her head. Something about “the Overwatch group” that Gabe had mentioned in passing; all of his old friends that he lost touch with when they wanted to do the public service stuff, versus the dark and gritty (but wholly necessary) stuff that Gabe did. With McCree. 

“Overwatch, Overwatch,” she whispers to herself, typing and searching frantically. "Aha!” She spots a contact in Sweden – specifically, in Gothenburg.

She reads about Gabe’s contact there – one Torbjörn Lindholm. She reads bout his family, his involvement with the Overwatch Project, and his relationship with Jack Morrison and Ana Amari. And with that information, she makes some more educated guesses about the lockdown pattern Gabe has on his bunker.

Sombra brings her attention back to the museum when she notices McCree and the demon have been staring at the same sorry old tractor for 10 minutes.

Had they found something? Well, it’s not like she could check anyway; she can’t do a trace-free call with the software McCree has on his phone, and it also prevents her from hacking the phone’s mic and eavesdropping.

She sighs, then she doubles down on the Swedish bunker. She figures she should have something to share with them as well so that they don’t get the impression that she’s wholly dependent on them.

She gets in after 4 tries.

 _“¡Órale!”_ she shouts. She revels in this small victory while she can, then she gets back to her screens. No recent activity reported at the bunker, and no one occupying it. She flicks back to the handwritten list, crossing off “SWEDEN??” and drawing a small circle next to it; this means that though Gabe isn’t there, she can set up a notification in case someone _does_ use the bunker.

Sombra sits back in her chair with a tired sigh. She closes the screen with the newly found bunker on it, and drags back the camera feeds from the tractor museum. McCree and his demon are just leaving. She watches their return to the hotel: gas station; main street; hotel car park… wait. The truck doesn’t show up. Sombra goes back to the main street camera, but no truck.

Have they shaken her? There’s no other way to get back to the hotel.

Feeling uneasy, she checks McCree’s phone activity and sees a phone call to Fareeha Amari. Damn. She had broken through their text encryption software easily enough, but whatever that pesky _brasileño_ had used to prevent access to phone calls was tough to crack. 

Sombra hisses a curse. They could be stopped anywhere for any number of reasons. She checks the hotel hallway feed again, seeing if Amari or Vaswani leave. 

She watches a portly waiter walking away from their room with an empty trolley. So they’re definitely still in with no plans to leave anytime soon.

A thought occurs to her. She hacks into the security systems of all the establishments between the main street camera and the hotel.

Loading the feeds in front of her with her specialised gloves, she swipes through them:

“Not at the salon.” _Flick._ “Not at the tobacconist.” _Flick._ “Not at the butcher, fishmonger, not at the green grocer.” _Flick, flick, flick._ “Ah. There you are.” She finds them in a large supermarket chain, but despite having multiple cameras to track them, their quality and frame rate are so poor, she can barely make out what it is they’re grabbing.

“Ugh, these stupid cameras are like 20 frames per second! How does a big chain have worse cameras than the _maldita_ hair salon!” She follows them to the freezer section, and when she swaps to that camera, she finds it’s not working.

 _“En serio?!”_ she snaps. She shuts down the feeds, throwing her hands up in the air. “I hate this town!”

She grabs the essentials and leaves her hideout. She figures if the boys are in for a home-cooked meal, she won’t be able to speak to them later. Unless she wants to deal with two skilled hunters, _and_ two very powerful non-humans that are incredibly protective of said hunters.

And she needs to know what they found at the museum.

She sets up all of her laser turrets and proximity alarms, then locks her hideout down and heads towards the supermarket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like writing Sombra. I looked up SO MUCH Mexican slang to make sure she stayed Mexican and didn't sound Chilean (which is a shame because Chilean slang is HILARIOUS), and I must say, Mexicans have some great slang words XD


	5. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyy. One month EXACTLY :B I honestly would have had this chapter out earlier, but my sister talked me into getting acrylic tips, and typing took 10,000% longer with those monsters XD
> 
> Also, I STILL don't have a proper title for this work D: I might actually need help sorting that out hahaha  
> (srsly tho, feel free to drop suggestions on my [Tumblr](https://winterartstuff.tumblr.com/) or my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/LeleOcelote).

The supermarket chain his hunter chooses is, quite frankly, the worst. The produce is all the same colour, same shape, same obnoxiously large size, and judging by the way they feel, they are most likely thawing from a freeze.

“How could you do this to me, Jesse?” Hanzo whines. “There was a greengrocer right there.”

But Jesse isn’t after fruit or vegetables; he leads Hanzo right into the confectionery aisle.

“…you are forgiven,” the demon mutters reluctantly. 

While they load up on sweets, Jesse calls Fareeha to ask if she and Satya want anything. She lets him know that they’d just ordered room service burgers. He ends the call and looks at Hanzo with that sly smirk of his. 

Hanzo just shrugs in response. “No ice cream for them,” he mutters, heading straight to the freezer aisle.

Once they finalise their purchases, they head out. They’re on their way back to the car when Hanzo stops Jesse with a quick hand gesture. 

“Wait.”

He inhales deeply through his nose, and he catches a familiar scent. “Sombra is waiting for us.”

“Really?” Jesse sighs. “Let’s go see what she wants.”

They find her leaning against Jesse’s truck, one arm across her midriff, and the other propped up on it, her hand hovering close to her face.

_“Qué tal?”_

Jesse lifts their grocery bags. “Shopping.”

She eyes the bags critically. “You shouldn’t have bought so much; Amari and Vaswani just ordered room service.”

Hanzo’s jaw clenches involuntarily; they had swept their room for bugs and cameras multiple times. Had they missed something?

 _“Relájate,”_ Sombra sneers. “I don’t have cameras in your rooms. I just have access to all the hotel security.”

It still doesn’t sit well with Hanzo.

“Anyway, I’m not here to talk about your house guests and their eating habits. I need to know if you got a lead from the museum.”

“Not exactly,” Jesse replies, rubbing his beard. “We got a location. Not likely a hideout, but probably a stash of some kind.”

“A stash?” She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Dammit.”

Again, there’s no underlying cockiness, none of her usual sarcastic sneer. 

“Why are you so concerned?” Hanzo asks her. “Reaper has been a successful mercenary in a terrorist cell for six years. Surely he can handle himself. Surely he _is_ handling himself.”

Sombra’s eyebrows pinch together, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “He can’t shift his whole body into smoke anymore.”

Hanzo and his hunter share a concerned look.

“Yeah, your witchy friend that zapped him? He hasn’t been able to shift since then. Not even with Talon’s top witch using her zombie magic or whatever to try and fix it.”

“…you are referring to death magic?” the demon asks.

“Yeah. Death magic. Whatever the hell that is.”

Hanzo looks at Jesse, who returns his uneasy look. His hunter then looks to Sombra.

“So Talon have a-”

“Had,” Sombra corrects.

“Right.” Jesse nods. “Talon _had_ a death magic specialist.”

 _“Sí._ Another witch. Apparently she knows your witch. Which I think is hilarious, because what are the chances, right?”

“How do they know each other?” Hanzo asks quickly. Because surely he can get more out of Sombra than Angela. Which is an unsettling thought. 

“No idea. All she says is,” and Sombra clears her throat, rounding out her accent and deepening her voice: “Dr Ziegler and I worked together many years ago.” She shrugs. “No idea how many years ago, or what they worked on. But you know wanna know what I think?”

She leans in closer to them with her signature smirk. “I think they were an item.”

Jesse scowls. “We’re not havin’ a gossip about Angie right now.”

“Ok, ok. Later, then.”

Hanzo is keen for that. And if he can get her alone (because Jesse would never), he’ll hold her to it. 

“Anyway,” she says, winding her hands in a quick motion, “I found something too. Well, nothing to lead us to Gabe. But something that tells us where he’s _not.”_

She pauses for dramatic effect, her eyes flicking from Jesse to Hanzo and back.

“He set up some bunkers. A lot of them. So far I’ve accessed four. Now for the bad news – he hasn’t returned to any of them.”

Hanzo feels more than hears Jesse deflate from that news. “So nothin’ on where he might be.” 

“No. But I’ll keep digging them up until I find him.”

“Sounds good. We’ll check out the stash an’ see if there’s anythin’ that could lead us to him.”

“Ok. Keep me updated.” She steps forward and taps Jesse quickly on the nose.

“Boop!”

And with that, she disappears, waving goodbye obnoxiously. 

Jesse looks to Hanzo, eyes still wide and surprised. “Man, she’s weird.”

He schools his expression and says, deadpan: “She’s your cousin.”

Jesse bumps him with his hip. “Oh, shut up.”

 

~~~~~~

 

Pharah isn’t a vegetarian; she grew up on beef dishes and goat meat. But when Satya finds a vegie burger on the room service menu that has a patty made from lentils and chickpeas… well, she just has to try it. 

Room service takes much longer than expected to arrive, but it gives them plenty of time to get dressed and make tea and coffee.

They chatter about anything and nothing, their feet lightly touching under the table. They talk about where to visit next, what attractions they should see, if it’s nice enough weather for a walk along the town’s many lovely nature trails. 

When there’s a knock at the door, Pharah’s mouth already begins salivating. The burgers smell amazing, and they thank and tip the waiter. After one bite, she knows Satya made the right call. 

“Mmmmm!”

Satya smiles at her. “I am glad their veggie burgers have proper veggie patties.” She tilts her head upward in that elegant way of hers, and her brows furrow slightly. “I once had a veggie burger in East Village, and the patty was a giant mushroom.”

Fareeha snorts. “As in… the whole patty was just a mushroom?”

She nods, her nose wrinkling slightly. “It wasn’t even seasoned.”

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson about eating at hipster restaurants,” Pharah teases.

“Hm. I would have thought that lesson learned when I had a ‘deconstructed’ burger.”

Pharah pouts playfully. “I think you just enjoy putting yourself through torturous food situations.”

“No, I just expect food to have basic flavouring and seasoning.”

“And by basic, you mean with a bit of cumin and paprika?”

“And turmeric. Coriander seed. Oh, and bay leaves too.”

“Of course. Only the basics.”

Satya nudges her foot with hers, giving her a faux offended look. 

They’re just about finished when Hanzo and Jesse get back. She looks at the two large bags Jesse carries in. 

“…when you told me you were stopping to get sweets, I thought you meant like a pack of cookies, maybe some ice cream-”

“The ice cream is mine,” Hanzo says, deadpan. 

“The ice cream is for everyone,” Jesse laughs, placing the bags on the kitchen bench and unpacking them. “Bumped into Sombra,” he announces, “because of course we did.”

Pharah just nods. 

“She told us that Gabe can’t shift into smoke anymore, so that’s concernin’.” 

“Why?”

“Because that’s his main defence and mode of transport.”

 _True,_ she thinks. Gabe might be in more trouble than they had originally anticipated. “We should get in touch with Angela,” she suggests. 

“Pharah, she don’t know what state Gabe’s in.”

“She’ll have a better idea than we would.”

“Perhaps…” Hanzo starts, his eyes unfocussed. Everyone gives him their attention. He looks up slowly. “Perhaps I may know someone who would know more than even Angela.”

Jesse looks to him dubiously. “And how’d you figure that?” he asks. 

“Angela only treated him once, and with healing magic. But that is not what kept the Reaper alive and able to shift between states.” He locks eyes with Pharah nervously. “I know death magic when I smell it.”

Fareeha feels badly for Hanzo; he had obviously had a long life of violence and exploitation before he had met Jesse. And given how Mom had reacted when he mentioned consuming life energy, she’s not at all surprised that he feels nervous revealing these things to her. 

“I’m not my mother, Hanzo,” she says softly with a smile. “I’m not judging you.”

His posture relaxes slightly. “This associate of mine specialises in death magic; it’s effects, the practice, the theories behind it, everything.”

“Please tell me yer not thinkin’ of who I think yer thinkin’ of?” Jesse moans. Hanzo just grunts in response.

“Now I am intrigued,” Satya says. Fareeha is, too; there isn’t much in this world that gets Jesse so fidgety and uneasy.

“What kind of associate?” Pharah enquires.

“They are a demon, of sorts,” Hanzo says.

“‘They’ singular?” she asks, just to be sure.

“Yes. They are a single creature with a single soul, and they have studied death magic for a very long time. They may or may not be able to speculate on Gabriel’s potential condition, but I suspect they are our best bet.”

“And where are they?”

“Japan.”

Fareeha looks to Satya quickly, and the witch meets her look. “Does that mean,” Pharah asks slowly, “you’re flying to Japan soon?”

“As soon as we can,” Jesse supplies. 

Satya’s brows pinch together. "What will happen to the room?"

Pharah was thinking the same thing, but she was too afraid to ask for fear of the answer. But when Jesse gives his signature relaxed smile, she knows exactly what will happen with the room.

“I mean," Jesse drawls, "this room’s been paid for fer the month. Be a shame to waste it.”

Fareeha feels giddy. Three whole weeks with Satya in this gorgeous hotel. She keeps her voice as even as possible. “You’re going to let us stay here in your stead?”

Jesse nods. “Yep. If we can, we’ll be leavin’ tonight, so y’all can have the bed.”

“Wonderful,” Satya says. “Now, what did you find at your tractor museum?”

“Location for a stash. No idea what kinda stash, but we’ll hit it up on the way to the airport.”

“Sounds like you boys have it all sorted,” Pharah says. “Now… how about that ice cream?”

 

~~~~~~

 

As the plane is landing, Jesse’s phone goes off. Which startles him, because it was switched off.

A flight attendant comes over and warns him that phones need to be off during landing. He and Hanzo apologise profusely and try to switch the damned thing back off, but it keeps beeping and flashing a purple image of a pixel skull. 

“Create a diversion,” Jesse hisses to Hanzo. He knows the poor bastard is exhausted from maintaining his human appearance for so long, but if they want any peace, he needs to answer the call and call Sombra back later. 

He turns to face the plane wall as much as he can, and he curls in on himself, trying to hide the fact that he’s doing something he really ought not to be.

“I’m on a landing plane God dammit!”

_“This can’t wait.”_

“It’s going to have to, or I’ll get murdered by the flight attendants.”

He hears a string of swear words, then a gruff _“fine”_ and his phone finally goes silent. 

The whole time they’re landing, then leaving the plane, Jesse feels tense and awkward. The flight attendants are professional and polite and wish him the best for his visit, which just makes him feel worse. 

It feels like hours until they’ve collected their luggage and left the airport, although Hanzo assures him it’s only been 30 minutes. He switches his phone on and immediately Sombra is calling.

“Yes?” he snaps. 

_“They found him.”_

Jesse’s heart stops. Or rather, it feels like it does before it begins beating rapidly. Even Hanzo has gone still beside him. 

He wets his lips, bracing himself to ask the question that he really doesn’t want the answer to:

“Who found Gabriel?”

_“Talon. I found a safehouse in Lijiang and I pulled the activity records. Gabe was hiding there for a while before they found him.”_

“Lijiang? As in, China?”

_“Uh huh.”_

“Did he get away?”

_“Seems that way, but I have no idea where he would be now. Most likely still in Southeast Asia somewhere.”_

“Well… that’s somethin’,” Jesse grumbles.

Hanzo begins to head to the desks, probably to check if they can get a last-minute flight to China. Jesse holds him back. 

“We’re in the middle of somethin’, but we’ll keep an eye out.” He ends the call. “Might as well see yer friend while we’re here; we still need to know the likely condition Gabe’ll be in.”

They waste no time catching a taxi to Hanzo’s castle grounds where they leave all of their belongings, then another taxi to a seedy bar. Hanzo leads them behind the bar and through a grimy alleyway that reeks of damp mould and the heavy scent of old urine.

They get to an abandoned lot with a very abandoned and dilapidated mall. Or rather, _half_ of a mall. Finally back in his natural skin, Hanzo walks forward with confidence while Jesse walks slowly behind him, fidgeting with his metal fingers.

McCree had only met them once, and he doesn’t care much for them. But they’re Hanzo’s associate, and they’re very knowledgeable – giving Jesse the heebie jeebies doesn’t discount their wealth of knowledge and experience.

The two of them reach a sturdy brick building on the side of the outer mall. Hanzo scrapes his nails along the door, twice in quick succession. The hunter and demon hear heavy and shuffling footsteps grow closer until the door opens.

An old and withered demon stands before them. Their skin is grey like Hanzo’s, but paler and more wrinkled. That is where the similarities end: their eyes aren’t pure white with a slight glow, they are a deep and dirty yellow, with an impossibly tiny slitted pupil; their horns are large and curved, and where they start is totally hidden under their wild black hair. The end of their left horn has been hacked off, and with the way Hanzo avoids the topic, Jesse assumes it’s not a pleasant story.

Ningen is the name they choose to go by. _Human,_ thinks Jesse; _an ironic name for a demon with no powers._

Ningen and Hanzo both bow deeply to each other. Jesse offers them a quick bow, but the old demon offers their hand instead. Jesse grabs it and gives it a polite shake, grateful that his glove keeps out the unnatural warmth and rough texture of Ningen’s palms. 

They step back, holding the door open and waving Hanzo and Jesse in. Hanzo makes idle chatter, catching up with his old friend. McCree mostly zones out, eyes roaming over Ningen’s dwelling. Much like Hanzo’s castle grounds, the ramshackle appearance of the outside does not match the interior; simple wooden furniture, only two bookshelves, simple floor lamps for lighting. 

His attention is brought back to the conversing demons with the tail end of an important question:

_“-but if a human being were to die, how is it that death magic could give them new life?”_

_“Ah,”_ Ningen responds, with the air of someone who enjoys answering this particular question over and over again, _“it is called ‘death magic’ purely for convenience’s sake. ‘Death’ is quite the misnomer…”_

He tunes out again, not particularly interested in one of Ningen’s long-winded lectures about the etymology of magical terms. Jesse decides to walk around now, and he heads to the entrance of the work station. 

It hasn’t changed a bit since the last time he had seen it. It is the complete opposite to the living space – cluttered with mismatched furniture and floating shelves hammered into any and every available wall surface. McCree’s eyes roam across these shelves, looking at the many jars and bottles on the shelf. A jar with a dark flame in it catches his eye. He tries to pick the colour, and it just looks like an impossibly dark shade of green. When he steps closer to the jar, an eye appears. It’s enormous, with a red iris and a long sideways pupil. 

Jesse freezes, watching the eye that appears to be watching him right back. He moves backwards slowly, and the eye disappears into the flame. 

The bottle directly next to it rattles violently. Once. 

He steps out of the work station and away from the bottles completely, deciding to return to the demons and their conversation. 

_“-so, hypothetically, death magic could work as a treatment if the recipient is also absorbing negative energies and breaking down?”_

Ningen tilts their large head quizzically. 

_“Hypothetically,”_ Hanzo repeats.

McCree watches Ningen’s expressions closely. They’re a lower caste of demon, so they don’t have the deceptive and persuasive powers that demons like Hanzo have. Which means that to a hunter like himself, their expressions are an open book.

He watches as their dark eyes move slowly across their home. Their face goes from curious, to thoughtful, to guarded. Then they begin moving into the work station. 

_“Tell me,”_ they say over their shoulder, _“why the sudden interest in my work?”_

Hanzo replies quickly: _“A case we are working on.”_

 _“Hn.”_ Ningen taps a blunted claw on their work desk. It makes Jesse incredibly uneasy. They turn from the desk to face Jesse and Hanzo. It feels like an hour of silence goes passed as Ningen’s eyes shift from Hanzo to Jesse and back, their eyebrows drawn low in thought.

Finally, their eyes land on Jesse, and they speak: _“If the case you are working involves hunting down an entity to end it, then I cannot help.”_

Jesse swallows. Then his brain works furiously to form a diplomatic response.

 _“We are not hunting to kill,”_ Hanzo says evenly. _“We are hoping to save a friend.”_

_“Hn.”_

Jesse is losing his patience. He knows Ningen knows something. And he wants to shake them until they share everything they know about Gabe. Hanzo picks up on his mood, and he quickly places a comforting hand on Jesse’s arm. 

_“Please, old friend,”_ he tries, _“This is to save someone very dear to my partner.”_

At the word ‘partner,’ Ningen’s eyes fall sharply on Jesse.

 _“This friend…”_ they whisper, _“he would not happen to be an American hunter named Reyes?”_

McCree breaks; his throat closes up and his eyes fill with tears.

Gabriel. Gabriel Reyes. Please, Ningen-san, please, is he safe? What do you know? Please, tell me what you know.

He’s not sure what he actually says out loud, but he doesn’t stop blabbering until Ningen walks over and places an impossibly warm hand on his arm. It’s enough to shock him into silence.

_“Your friend is safe, for now.”_

_“For now?”_ Hanzo repeats, raising a brow.

Ningen picks up a battered and rusted circular mirror from their desk. And now that Jesse’s attention is on it, he can hear it vibrating with an impossibly low and deep hum.

_“He was followed here, and I have placed him in hiding until his pursuer comes to confront me directly. I imagine she will be here soon now that she knows you’re here.”_

Jesse catches the glimpse of a familiar silhouette in Ningen’s mirror; long, slim but sturdy legs, a muscular frame of corded muscles, with an extensive and elegant ponytail trailing behind her.

“Widowmaker,” Jesse rasps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ningen" is the Japanese word for "human." Also, yay Widowmaker :D
> 
> Again, if anyone has suggestions for a title, I am all ears! 
> 
> [Tumblr](https://winterartstuff.tumblr.com/) || [Twitter](https://twitter.com/LeleOcelote)


	6. Spiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter HATED me and didn't want to co-operate -- that's why it took me 4 months to smash out :'(
> 
> Also December is proper gacked for me because 1) sister's birthday, 2) Chilean Christmas #1 on Xmas Eve with Mum, then Chilean Christmas #2 with Dad, ALSO on Xmas Eve, 3) brother's birthday, then 4) New Years prep.
> 
> But hey -- here's chapter 6 for you all :D Happy Holiday Season <3

**_[REDACTED] “Sombra” [REDACTED]_ **

Talon sends its agents to every continent on the planet. Well, they _did._ Until their funds started being reappropriated for humanitarian causes. And to pay a certain hunter with a sweet tooth.

Sombra chuckles to herself. She knows she does excellent work. It’s especially rewarding when she gets to screw over the big guys to uplift the little guys.

She continues to relax on the hyper train. Despite being to over 30 different countries while working for Talon, she’s never had the chance to enjoy the places she’s visited: she’s never just caught a train and sat watching the scenery fly passed; she’s never stayed in a hotel (just Talon bunkers); she’s never even had the chance to try different cuisines at the top restaurants, even when she’s been undercover in well-to-do areas.

Sombra decides that when she catches up to McCree and his smug demon husband, she’s going to demand they take her out for some real, genuine Japanese food in Japan. Even if it’s soggy ramen from a hole-in-the-wall diner.

She checks her wrist watch; not long until the scheduled arrival time at Hanamura station. To pass the time (and for her entertainment of course), she gets out her real-time translation app and listens to the conversations going on around her.

She listens to business men discuss a client, then swaps to a person in their twenties tell their parent they’ll be late to dinner, and once she’s bored with that, she swaps to a couple of teenage girls because she figures if teenagers don’t have anything interesting to say, it should at least be amusing. 

_“Uh. Another text from Hinako-chan.”_

_“Why is she freaking out so much? She’s waited for us at the station on her own when it’s been dark and empty.”_

_“I’m asking her now, because you’re right. It’s not like her.”_

Sombra fiddles on her phone, not really listening too closely. Until the one doing the texting exclaims loudly.

_“Whaaaaaat.”_

_“What?!”_

_“Listen! Listen!”_ the first teenager hisses, waving her hand frantically. _“There’s this creepy French lady walking around asking about that abandoned shopping mall. She’s freaking everyone out, and she-”_

Sombra tunes out and starts searching for abandoned shopping malls in the area. She also wonders what the hell Widowmaker would be doing looking for a place like that; abandoned buildings in creepy areas are most definitely a demon’s domain.

 _Demons are all so predictable,_ she thinks to herself. If their home isn’t an abandoned building, it’ll be a run-down structure or something equally eerie and secluded. It makes her wonder what kind of abandoned building McCree’s demon made himself a home in. He seems far too particular and well-to-do to just settle for something like an abandoned shopping complex. 

Her first guess would have been that ancient castle on that huge plot of private land, but Gabe told her that used to belong to the Shimada demons, and lesser demons wouldn’t dare try and claim a place like that. Not with the legacy the Shimada left behind. Which surprised her, because demons are always back-stabbing and screwing each other over – why wouldn’t they try to appropriate territories of demons no longer present? 

_“Japanese demon families are different,”_ Gabe had told her. _“It’s all about honour and tradition. You defy that, you get branded a blood traitor.”_ Harsh, but whatever. She’s grateful she has no connections to those kinds of demon families. Just the normal solo bastards that enjoy either blending in with humans, or hoarding useless crap in their abandoned-building-turned-den.

She returns to the present when she finds a webpage describing a long-abandoned mall on the outskirts of Hanamura’s central business district. She plots a route from Hanamura train station to there, and hopes she gets there before Widowmaker gets herself into any kind of trouble.

 

~~~~~~

 

**_Shimada Hanzo_ **

 

“Head in the game, Jesse.”

Hanzo has watched his hunter say this to himself more times than he can count. He feels that to Jesse, it’s a pick-me-up, a way to compartmentalise and get urgent tasks taken care of. But to Hanzo, it’s always sounded like “I’ll have my breakdown later.” 

He doesn’t like it, but at least it works; he’s known plenty of men that postpone a breakdown and never get around to releasing those emotions. Jesse is most definitely not one of those. 

Hanzo can clearly see the moment when Jesse becomes “McCree, veteran Monster Hunter.” When that shift happens, McCree turns to face Ningen:

_“Does your mirror tell you where she’s hiding?”_

_“Yes,”_ the elder replies, _“on the western part of the complex. Near the ice cream shop.”_

He nods tersely in response. 

_“I assume she knows exactly where we are?”_ Hanzo asks his old friend. But it’s the hunter that replies by waving a hand around at the candles and glowing lights; of course she knows. 

Hanzo just huffs. 

“Two of us an’ one of her.” Despite their situation, McCree still manages a sly smile with a teasing wink. “Usual plan of attack?”

Hanzo nods. “Agreed.” 

“Get ready.”

They move to an exit, not bothering to stay stealthy. McCree positions himself closer to the dorr, Hanzo right behind him. He flicks his cloak so that it flails out of the door, and when a shot rings out and a new hole is punched through it, they both dive out quickly while the sniper reloads. 

Without any further words exchanged, they separate, McCree sticking to the lower ground and Hanzo heading into a ruined building to climb higher unseen. 

He goes up one level, keeping one eye on McCree and the other on where Widowmaker’s shot came from. Making sure that his hunter is covered, Hanzo sneaks forward, nocks a sonic arrow, and fires it into the western-most building.

The arrow lodges neatly in an exposed wooden beam with a gentle thud. He watches a lithe silhouette freeze, then look around for the source of the sound. 

He remembers Ana telling him that the Widowmaker was a dancer in her first life. And seeing only her outline, he can definitely see her moving as a dancer would; quick deliberate movements, fluid and powerful. Even her rifle looks slim and elegant in her hands. 

He moves closer to her hiding place, aiming to flank her and get her between McCree and himself so that they can both have her in their line of sight. The demon proceeds cautiously; she’s already on alert after hearing his sonic arrow landing. The last he sees of her outline is her hurrying away, most likely into a new position. 

_“Got eyes on ’er,”_ McCree breathes into the comm. _“She’s headin’ into that wonky brick monstrosity.”_

Hanzo can’t help but chuckle at that. The brick monstrosity he is referring to looks to be a crumpled weatherboard building with a peeling brick façade. 

“Understood,” he replies, “I will approach from the opposite side.”

He heads around the complex. He walks over old glass, crushed brick, crumbled concrete, walks around loose window panes and destroyed walls. He finds a ledge and pulls himself up one more level. He can see the Widowmaker now, standing tall and still, leaned against a wall with her eyes focussed out the window and on the ground.

He approaches her slowly, knowing that she can easily hear and smell him. She turns to face him gradually, not even raising her rifle. Hanzo gets a good (if brief) look at what she’s wearing:

A segmented helmet with small red lenses arranged in a way that makes it look quite spider-like. A blood red corset top with black lining and shiny silver buttons running down the middle. Underneath it she has on a crisp white shirt and a black tie. On top of it all, she wears a black blazer with silver trim, brass buttons, and long pointed coattails that fall to the backs of her knees. Her left forearm has an intricate steel device with a vial of green sitting neatly in the middle. 

She wears fitted black breeches with red buttons running along the sides of her legs, and ornate black cavalier boots with blood red kilties that match her corset. 

Why do Talon’s elite agents feel the need to dress so dramatically? First Reaper with his mask and cloak, then Sombra with her hair and gaudy jacket, and now a vampire who dresses in 1800s colonial attire. If he were facing a less formidable opponent, he would likely laugh in her face. Even her rifle is dark steel with blood red accents!

“An archer?” Her sneer is arrogant and disdainful. 

Hanzo matches that sneer. “I would wager on my bow against your rifle any day.”

Her expression becomes a lot more hostile. “That would be the _last_ mistake you ever made.”

A quick shake of her rifle shifts the whole weapon; it goes from slim and elegant to squat and compact. Hanzo ducks behind a rusted vent before she opens fire. And it’s not the single sharp crack of a sniper; her weapon had turned into an automatic rifle!

She fires a quick burst, then he hears her vault over the ledge and land heavily on the lower level. Knowing that she’ll expect him to follow, Hanzo takes another way down; he goes through the gutted inside of the building. 

She manages to see him through the broken windows, and she fires at him. He ducks and weaves around bent and rusted supports that are loose within the building. When she stops to reload, he’s firmly on his feet. He pops out of his cover and fires an arrow. He aims for her elbow, hoping to disable her arm, but she swivels out of the way and shoots quick automatic bursts at him. 

He ducks back behind his cover, drawing two arrows now, and nocking one while keeping the other between his fingers. He hopes that McCree is in position behind the Widowmaker so that he doesn’t stay pinned down for much longer.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he hears the loud bang of Jesse’s gun. He hears two shots punch out and the Widowmaker’s return fire. 

Hanzo takes his chances; he fires an arrow at her arm and the other at her leg.

She sprints to another area of cover, Hanzo’s arrows _just_ missing her. He draws another arrow but before he can fire it, Widowmaker fires a grappling hook at a sturdy-looking half-building and flies up upon it so quickly, Hanzo barely has time to pull back on his bowstring. 

“She is up high again!” Hanzo warns.

_“Got eyes on her. Keep yer head down.”_

Hanzo grunts an acknowledgement over the comms and takes cover in another crumpled building nearby. 

_“I’ll keep her busy. See if you can get in behind her.”_

He doesn’t like it, but he knows that McCree can handle himself; he’s watched McCree take on several armed vampires without breaking a sweat – he can most definitely handle one. Especially one that he’s familiar with.

He hears the familiar bang of the revolver, with the Widowmaker’s return fire. He times his ascent up the half-building so that the clacking of his boots is covered by the sounds of gunfire. 

Hanzo is nearly at the top when he hears Widowmaker’s descent. _Shit._ He was almost right on top of her. And now she’s at the bottom and will be trying to fight Jesse hand-to-hand.

At the top he watches the vampire run dizzying circles around his hunter, trying to disorient him. McCree stays calm and focussed, not bothering to try and spin and keep up with her, but still able to track her movements. 

When she starts to move closer and makes swipes at McCree’s weapon, Hanzo fires at her to slow her down and distract her. It throws her a bit, and it’s enough for Jesse to grab her rifle and throw an elbow into her diaphragm. She releases her gun, takes a few steps back, then fires her grappling hook at a sturdy exposed pipe; it rebounds elegantly and she catches it with her left hand. She retracts the cable, and the loop she created pulls tightly shut around McCree, his arms stuck completely pressed to his sides. Her rifle slips out of his hand. 

Hanzo takes another three shots, careful not to hit his hunter. One she ducks under, another lands right in her oversized shoulder pad, and the last hits her right where her arm meets her torso. 

She lets out a guttural grunt, but otherwise doesn’t react to her injury. She kicks McCree’s legs out from under him while she retracts her grappling hook. She then scoops up her rifle with her uninjured arm and runs with lightning speed to cover. 

The demon draws more arrows, but it’s McCree, who has now rolled onto his back, who fires first. He hits the vial on her arm brace and it shatters with a bang, a green gas puffing out with violent force, knocking her sideways. 

Now sitting upright, McCree shoots her through the calf. She falls forward, landing flat on her belly with a harsh grunt, her grip on her rifle still strong. Hanzo approaches quickly with an arrow drawn. She has an ugly snarl on her face, her elongated canines making her look even more formidable. Hanzo returns that expression, and adds a low, rumbling growl.

McCree is beside him in no time. “Don’t try anythin’ stupid,” he says. Her grip tightens on her rifle. It makes Hanzo very uncomfortable; she is impossibly fast, even for his heightened reflexes. She could very quickly roll onto her back and fire at the both of them. Or worse – she could use her grappling hook. 

As if reading his mind, her left arm moves into a more strategic position.

“I mean it, now,” McCree growls, “don’t make me bust up that pretty weapon of yours.”

She smirks, letting out a low haughty laugh. “Foolish,” she purrs. She looks ready to jump up, her left arm braced, and Hanzo readies himself for the worst. That is, until a familiar silhouette flickers into existence with a burst of purple light. 

Sombra’s foot materialises on the Widowmaker’s left arm – right on top of the grappling hook. Her short gun is pointed at the vampire’s face. 

“Did you miss me?” Sombra sneers, winking at down at the vampire.

To Hanzo’s complete surprise, Widowmaker sighs with a roll of her eyes, then releases her grip on her weapon. Sombra bends quickly to pick it up while McCree removes what is left of her arm brace. He pulls the grappling hook from the brace.

“Over there, please, _mademoiselle,”_ he says, nodding over to thick wires poking out of a ruined concrete slab. 

Widowmaker doesn’t even look at him; her eyes never leave Sombra, not when she rises, nor when she walks over to the wires, and not even when she sits while McCree uses her grappling wire to tie her to the support wires.

With her inhuman strength, she can break free, but breaking through the thick wire cabling would take time, and if she tries anything, he, Jesse, or Sombra could subdue her again before she could get away.

“So,” Sombra starts, her lips quirked up with her signature sarcastic smile, “what are you doing at a demon’s hideout?”

Hanzo resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course she would know what kind of place a demon would choose for their lair.

“It’s where Gabe’s hidin’,” McCree replies shortly, still in business mode.

“Gabe?” Sombra’s demeanour swaps from playful to angry and defensive in the blink of an eye. She stomps right up to the Widowmaker, looking angry, and surprisingly hurt. “Why are you going after Gabe?” she snaps. 

Hanzo’s lingering doubts that she genuinely cared for Gabriel and his safety are now gone.

“Easy, now,” McCree soothes, placing a gentle hand on Sombra’s shoulder. But she won’t have it; she shakes it off roughly, still seething.

“What the hell, Widow? What did Gabe ever do to-?”

“How dare he!” the Widowmaker booms, causing Sombra to snap her mouth shut. “How dare he plan for his freedom without me!” Her face becomes a snarling mask of rage and hurt. “Whatever they did to him, they did _worse_ to me!” She glares up at Sombra through her thick lashes, as if daring her to contradict or challenge her. 

Sombra lowers her cold stance, her expression softening. The vampire draws in a shaky inhale, teeth still bared in an angry grimace. “How dare he leave me behind.” 

“It looks like he couldn’t trust you,” McCree says, rather indelicately. Hanzo’s unsure if he has a strategy, or if he’s just letting her have it. 

She turns to face him, cold fury on her face. She looks as if she’s about to speak, when suddenly her face falls slack. Her expression becomes blank and all the tension in her body disappears. She stares blankly ahead, still and emotionless. 

Morbid curiosity takes over, and he waves a hand in front of her face. She remains unresponsive.

 _“Mierda,”_ Sombra barks. “Her programming’s kicked in.”

 _Programming?_ Hanzo feels uneasy, and when he looks to Jesse, his hunter’s face is pale and fearful. What exactly did Talon do to her?

“What triggered it?” his hunter asks. 

“A combination of being tied up and high emotional stress.”

Jesse wets his lips. “Can we restrain her in any way without triggering her programming?”

“Uh… sure. Got a containment cell lying around?”

“We can ask the demon that lives here if they got somethin’.”

Sombra chuckles to herself. “I knew it. What else would pick a place like this to live?”

Her sarcastic tone makes Hanzo think that she’s dealt with a lot of different demons. And he has _a lot_ of questions. But they would have to wait. Instead, he volunteers himself to go back to Ningen and ask them about containment cells. 

“No need,” Jesse smiles, nodding to something behind Hanzo. He turns and sees Ningen approaching; their mirror must have shown them that they were out of danger. 

_“Would a giant empty aquarium be sufficient?”_ they ask. 

“Yeah, that’d be perfect,” Jesse replies.

“Wait, what?” Sombra sputters, digging into her hideous coat for her phone. “I didn’t have my translation app running!”

“They said they think yer an asshole an’ they don’t like you.”

 _“McCree-san!”_ Ningen snaps. Hanzo can see they’re amused and only trying to sound scolding for Sombra’s sake. Jesse, on the other hand, doesn’t even bother looking abashed. 

Hanzo translates for her: “My old friend here has access to an empty aquarium tank.”

Sombra purses her lips sarcastically. “You know she can punch her way through glass?”

_“It is two layers of thick polycarbonate sheeting; it will not shatter.”_

Sombra looks somewhat satisfied. Without any further words, she tucks her gun into a belt under her jacket and begins untying the Widowmaker. Jesse looks properly guilty about his role in putting her in her current state, so Hanzo steps in to help Sombra carry the vampire to Ningen’s vacant tank. Ningen leads the way, Jesse bringing up the rear.

“Where’s Gabe?” Sombra asks. Her voice is strained, and Hanzo knows it’s not from lifting Widowmaker’s limp form; she actually sounds vulnerable for a change.

 _“He is safe,”_ Ningen replies, side-eyeing her. _“That is all I am willing to share with you.”_

 _“En serio?_ I literally showed up in the nick of time to stop her escaping from these two goofballs.” She ignores Jesse’s indignant ‘hey!’ and continues: “And, I’ve been helping them find Gabe to make sure he’s safe.”

Ningen’s side-eye shifts to Jesse, who gives a reluctant shrug. “’S the truth,” he mutters.

The elder demon hesitates for only a moment. _“McCree-san first.”_

“…we can’t both go to see him?”

Ningen lets out an exasperated sigh. _“You need to watch your friend. And we,”_ they gesture to Hanzo and then themself, _“need to watch_ you.”

Sombra throws Ningen her signature disapproving look, but doesn’t say anything more. Hanzo is incredibly grateful for that. 

 

~~~~~~

 

**_Gabriel “Reaper” Reyes_ **

His tired eyes scan the attic for anything that can be used as a weapon. Although, after so long in military black-ops, anything and everything can be turned into a weapon. Except the cardboard boxes. 

Well… he _could_ chop them up into little shuriken like he did as a teenager. Thinking back on those days, he’s surprised neither he nor his rowdy friends lost any eyes with the way they would fling them at each other. 

Gabriel keeps scanning: empty glass jars and containers; boxes of instant ramen; a battered old broom that looks ready to crumble into dust; flat-pack shelving units (like the old demon has any room for more shelves).

He feels terribly guilty with the way he intruded on Ningen; they are an old contact, barely a friend, who he only came to for information. And when they found that Gabriel had been flushed out of his bunker by some dangerous people, they agreed to shelter him. 

When this is all over, he’ll buy them something nice. Or practical – Ningen isn’t one for aesthetics and decorating. Either way, he owes them a big and generous gift.

Gabriel stills, listening; he can hear footsteps. Or rather, Ningen’s slow shuffling, and a heavier set of steps. He listens carefully to the unfamiliar tag-along, listening for the heavy stomp of Talon-issue boots and the dead-on rhythmic pace of brainwashed troops. But these footsteps don't match that description that all.

A low, reedy voice calls out to him: “Reyes-san.”

He braces himself. He can feel his emotions rising up, lodging in his throat and tightening in his chest. _I’m sorry to put you in danger like this, I’m sorry I got you involved in my big, ugly mess, I'm sorry-_

He draws in a deep breath, cutting that thought train off, then offers his usual grunt in response. 

_“There is someone here to see you.”_

His whole body stiffens. _No,_ he thinks, _surely not._ Could it be Sombra? He figured she would have left him to fend for himself after he had failed to contact her at their agreed time. And after he had left it for so many months without trying to make contact again, he assumed he had been long forgotten. 

But it’s not Sombra’s light bouncing footsteps that he hears climbing the rickety stairs; these footsteps are much heavier and more direct.

Curious, Gabriel turns to face the top of the stairs, and slowly, a hat appears. A had he would recognise anywhere.

_Jesse._

He lets out an involuntary whine. 

Jesse keeps climbing until he stands at the top of the staircase. He stops there, looking like a lost and confused pup. The man’s pushing forty, and he still has that face, the one that makes you want to wrap your arms around him and tell him everything will be ok.

“Gabe,” he whispers, sounding as choked-up as Gabriel feels.

He flashes back to the alleyway in Dorado. But this time, he’s the one that hugs Jesse. This time it’s him that starts to cry, it’s him that begins the big collective fucking mess, because as soon as he lets his emotions out, Jesse is following suit. 

Gabriel sobs so hard he can barely breathe, but he doesn’t dare ask Jesse to loosen his vice-like grip around him. Nor does he dare to loosen his grip; he’d been on the run from Jack for 7 years, then on the run from Moira for the past 6 months, and now, only now, does he finally feel that he doesn’t need to run anymore.

For the first time in a long time, he feels _safe._


End file.
